Pierson dropped his eyes and grew red with embarrassment for his
friend who was thus "rushing on to make a fool of himself."

Scarborough's glance traveled slowly from row to row of expectant
young men.

"Mr. Chairman and fellow-members of the Washington and Jefferson
Society," he said in a conversational tone. "I have the honor
of placing in nomination Frank Adee, of Terre Haute. In addition
to other qualifications of which it would be superfluous for me
to speak in this presence, he represents the masses of the
membership of this society which has been too long dominated by
and for its classes. It is time to compel the fraternities to
take faction and caste and political wire-pulling away from this
hall, and to keep them away. It is time to rededicate our
society to equality, to freedom of thought and speech, to the
democratic ideas of the plain yet proud builders of this college
of ours."

Scarborough made no attempt at oratory, made not a single
gesture. It was as though he were talking privately and
earnestly with each one there. He sat amid silence; when a few
barbs nervously applauded, the fraternity men of both factions,
recovering themselves, raised a succession of ironical cheers. A
shabby, frightened barb stood awkwardly, and in a trembling, weak
voice seconded the nomination. There was an outburst of barb
applause--strong, defiant. Pierson was anxiously studying the
faces of his barbs.

"By Jove," he muttered, "Vance has been caught napping. I